The Reincarnation Series - Ephemeral Paradise
by V.P.virtuoso
Summary: [Story no. 001] [THREE-SHOT] A tale as old as time, a song as old as rhyme, about two lovers, worlds apart yet heavily intertwined by the strings of love. A story of longing, wishes, friendship, love...and death. And so, everything begins here. Once upon an unhappy time. [UPDATED 9/16/13]


**A/N: Please do not be confused.** This is now actually updated - it's the first half of the story, so believe me when I say this, but if you have already read the first three chapters I formerly posted, well, there's still more.** Just read and you'll get what I mean, and since it's been quite a while, I suggest you read it from the very beginning and not where you guys left of to refresh your minds and yeah, you get the idea LOL XD **

**AND YES, THE TITLE CHANGE. Let me explain that too. **I changed the title because this was originally supposed to be a oneshot. No, actually, it was supposed to be a series of oneshots. And yeah, the compilation of those series of oneshots will be called "Reincarnation Series". Expect each one to have some sort of connection / parallelism with the rest of the oneshots.** So far, "Ephemeral Paradise" will be the first on the list. **

**Thank you. :D**

**Disclaimer: I do not own CCS. **

* * *

**Prologue**

It was snowing.

Yet the figure slowly walks on, trudging down the thick snow in the teeth-chattering chill of a December night. The deserted street radiated an aura of peril and melancholia, seeming rather treacherous with only the eerie, dim yellow orbs of lamp posts serving as his only light, leaving only shadows and darkness in their midst. Still, he wanders ahead, pulling up his collar and wrapping his coat around tighter around him, never to give even a single returning glance.

Where was he going off to in the midst of the night? Even he himself was uncertain. If he were to look back, he would probably see from afar, the little town of Tomoeda still as busy as ever despite the late night hour. It was of no surprise though. After all, it wasn't just any other night. It was Christmas eve, and people there of course, were too perked up to celebrate the Christmas season. Everybody seemed rather busy—needing to buy this and that; needing to go to here and there; needing to see their loved ones and give them their warm season's greetings.

_To see his loved one…_

Yes, that was probably his purpose from the very start. That must have been his reason as to why he had decided to venture down the lonesome road which led outside the quaint, peaceful town he had always known into the ghostly whispers of the trees which surrounded it. Love was probably what kept him going.

He couldn't remember though. His mind had been such a blur after hours of going against the cold weather without a certain destination. His head had started to pound, his body had started to shiver; his legs had started to give in and his hands had grown numb. But he didn't mind. Even if he was about to freeze and die right there, he still wouldn't mind. Sure enough, facing the harsh, winter winds was hard and painful…

But it was nothing compared to the heaviness he felt inside his chest.

He then looked up.

It was still snowing.

The harsh winds whipped right at his face, quite aged with the years yet still held a youthful charm. Just one glance and anyone could tell that he was once a fine man, now trapped and kept prisoner with the emptiness he felt inside. Crystal flakes landed softly in his unkempt dark brown hair, and his empty amber eyes searched the heavens, wishing, hoping for even the faintest glow of light on the horizon.

Who knows—maybe, just maybe, it would free him from his loneliness; it would release him from the air of depression which wrapped around him. After all, wasn't Christmas the season of hope? He wanted to see the stars, to gaze at fair Luna in all her beauty. He wanted to watch them glow magnificently, shining their light upon those down below, consuming the dark sky with all their majesty.

But he only saw dark grey clouds. Nothing more.

And so, the flicker of hope which he felt for a fleeting moment slowly died away...

Just as how his deep love for the Christmas season did, a very long time ago.

Christmas?

_Tsk…tsk…_

Oh, how he hated this time of the year.

Still, he moves on, never to give even a single returning glance, going deeper into the forest, moving further and further away from the lights.

It was only when he passed by the familiar-looking, mournful black iron gates that he had finally realized where his feet was dragging him, and only then had he felt the current situation weigh heavily against him. For the first time ever, ever since he ventured down the frosted grass, he shivered. No, not because of the cold, but because of something else—known to him, and him alone. He shouldn't be here; there were too many memories. He wasn't ready to go yet; there was too much of him tethered to this place, and the waves of the sea not far away mourns with him, sharing his sadness, understanding his pain.

A warm hand places itself upon his shoulder.

"Li-kun."

A friend.

He couldn't bring himself to turn around and face her. "Dadouji. So you came to visit her as well…"

He hated how she looked at him. With pity.

"I called your name tons of times. But you seem spaced out," the woman replied.

Syaoran took in the cool air. "Was I? Then I guess…" he stopped abruptly, falling short on what to say.

"I know it's hard. So just…" a pause. "…just please don't do anything stupid. See you tomorrow—or at least, I'm _hoping_ to. You still have a novel manuscript to pass. Have you finished it yet?"

"No."

"Then you better do. Ja, Li-kun."

Syaoran stood as still as ever as he listened to her footsteps grow fainter with every passing second, until he could hear no more.

He remembered reading through his manuscript that morning, almost done, polished, and edited, then staring at its non-existent end. It was still missing a part.

He chuckled bitterly. "Soon Daidouji. Soon. It'll all end…soon enough…"

He glanced at his watch.

_10: 06 p.m. _

Just a few more hours.

Just a few more hours before Christmas.

Just a few more hours before this story finally comes to an end.

He smiled—a genuine smile—that kind of smile which he had never put on for years.

But now he did.

After all, wasn't Christmas the season of hope?

Finally stopping after his long hours of journey, he looked straight ahead, and in front of him stood a beautiful sakura tree…

.

.

.

A certain sakura tree, which bloomed in the brightest of pink.

"Hey…" he whispered at the peachy pink piece of rectangular marble which sat by the tree's foot. "…Sakura."

A heavy wind blew, and for a moment there, he had thought he had felt her warm touch, her comforting arms wrapped around him.

Yet he remained rigid, ignoring the raging wind.

Because that's all it was.

Wind.

=.o.=

_A tale as old as time, a song as old as rhyme, about two lovers, worlds apart yet heavily intertwined by the strings of love. A deep red in color, as beautiful as that of a rose, yet too, held the same nauseating shade as that of blood. A story of longing, wishes, friendship, love…_

_…and death._

_Everything begins here._

_Once upon an unhappy time._

* * *

**I.**

In lands far off; in a place cut off from time; was a quaint and peaceful town which sat by the sea. And quite a few ways off from its outskirts, was a paradise, fields of beautiful greeneries dotted with flowers in colorful hues. A fantasy dreamland where the sun never sets, but never rises either. Where one would be energized by the warmth of the day, and would be compelled into the enigmatic beauty of the night. A place where one knows how it feels to dream, and to breathe simply because he can. Where one would wake up under the canopy of the trees in a fine spring day, take in the sweet perfume of summer, watch the golden brown leaves dance along with the warm autumn air, and run around the white snow in the winter seasons. It was where the purifying rain falls down upon one, and stops. Fresh. New. Reborn. And a colorful rainbow would appear, where a pot of gold awaits at the other end.

It was a place of wondrous mysteries, where everything is not as they seem to be—where new adventures await at every corner.

The nearby sea, was just as majestic. The fine grains of sand shift along ones fingers, along with the cool refreshing water. Where one would watch the tide come in, tickling his toes with its crystal waters. And at every sunset, the golden sun would paint the vast heavens in hues of orange, and one could only gape in awe as he stares in the horizon. The night was just as wonderful. The moon would gaze down, shining her silver light upon paradise, and the stars would twinkle brightly—shimmers of hope in the azure sky.

It was a place, simply paradise indeed.

And in the midst of it all, was a beautiful sakura tree, which bloomed in the brightest of pink.

"Tag! Hahaha! You're it!" a boy happily declared as he went around the tree's wide trunk, peering over his shoulder as a girl tailed closely behind him.

"Aw…no fair!" she whined, nearly tripping on a root as she ran.

It was at that very same sakura tree, where two young children loved to play, both in the naïve, innocent age of seven.

"Slowpoke!"

"Am not!"

"Am to!"

"Augh! Get back here!"

Laughter then followed.

The two had been playmates ever since they could remember, and this paradise was their world. They would run around the fields all day, their laughter piercing right through the crisp air of a fine sunny day; they would play all sorts of games and hum all sorts songs together, lying upon the fresh green grass, basking in the energizing warmth of the morning sun; and if they were already tired, they would cool off under the shade of the trees in a nearby woods, letting the warm breeze wrap around them, along with the scent of nature and the relaxing sounds of the wilderness.

They too, were classmates, and during weekdays, they would wait for each other in their meeting place, at the sakura tree, and then would walk to school together, hand in hand, their feet treading along paths of rocky gravel lined with magnificent rose bushes, flowers shimmering with their bright red color. Both were popular in their school, loved by all, classmates and teachers alike.

They would stroll around the town square, enjoying the festive atmosphere the late afternoon brought. They would watch puppet plays, they would eat snacks. They would skip down the town's main street and would play hide-and-seek at its maze-like alleys. Afterwards they would walk by the sea and watch the sunset together. They would say each others' "Goodnight's," and would go to sleep, whisked away into the land of dreams, before the sun shines once again, and another beautiful day yet repeats itself.

Both lived perfect lives, in a perfect place simply paradise indeed, a wonderland, a realm which, in all its' beauty and splendor, seemed like one from a dream. And the young boy and girl, with their childish innocence to the harsh world still intact, never saw the nightmares which lay ahead.

And here they were again, enjoying each other's company like how they usually do, on a snowy day—that time of the year which they loved the most. That day, they had a snowball fight. They had built a snowman. They had made snow angels and now, they sat by the sakura tree's braches, still as summery pink as ever despite the cool season. Every once in a while, their eyes would meet, and would automatically exchange smiles with no particular reason. Maybe it was because of the different emotions which whirled inside them whenever they were together. They never knew what it was—a strange emotion which had probably developed over time, perhaps by accident, perhaps not.

They never knew.

"Do you hear that?"

The girl raised a fine brow. "Hear what?"

"The beating in my chest," he replied. "Do you hear it?"

"Let me hear it," the girl said as she brought an ear closer to his chest. Her eyes then widened upon hearing the faint thumping inside it. "Yeah, I do!" she pulled away. "I wonder what it means…"

The boy shrugged. "Hmmm. I don't know…"

Yes, life was just one happy game for them—the young boy and the young girl. That was the magic of their wonderland.

But sometimes, magic can only be an illusion.

And illusions, no matter how real they seem, fade.

* * *

**II.**

_"There they go again, Sakura-chan and that…that boy."_

_"Oh Fujikata let them be. They are still young after all."_

_"I can't. You know our family has a reputation to maintain, and I cannot allow such shame. Imagine Nadeshiko—our only daughter, playing with that poor boy!" _

_"I know. But dear, if you split them up now, Sakura might—"_

_"I won't split them up. For now. We will wait a few years."_

_"But—"_

_"Don't worry. Everything will be all right. Time will come, and Sakura will understand…"_

_A doubtful glance. A defeated sigh. _

_"Well, if you say so…"_

* * *

**III.**

And more years did come to pass, with Sakura and Syaoran's friendship still as tight as ever.

But they have yet to realize, the cruel reality of the world outside the protective walls of their little paradise.

They never noticed how different they were.

She was the very image of beautiful—with stunning emerald eyes as clear as crystal, and short auburn hair which framed her delicate face perfectly. She blushed roses without the help of rouge, and her soft, beautiful voice which escaped her honey-glazed lips was a soothing melody one would love to listen to all day. And the people awed her beauty.

Whilst he was as simple as a boy can be. Like her, he too, was beautiful. Yet unlike her, he had been banished, exiled from the high-class society which surrounded him, people in denial of the notion that there could still be beauty in one as lowly as he.

They never noticed—how the girl always wore dresses of expensive cloth and intricate designs, and the boy being able to do with only a plain, greased top ang shorts quite faded with time. And for this, those around them would send them questioning stares, probably wondering how such beautiful friendship could exist between a descended angel and a mere mortal.

That too, they never noticed.

And it was quite the irony, as to how they would ask each other about what they want to be when they grow up, and the girl would happily exclaim "I want to become a princess!", when she already was one, and the boy would declare that "I'll be your knight in shining armor then," when his state was far from someone of expensive silver armor.

They were innocent.

Too innocent, that's why.

Yet, however, as they would stroll by the town square on occasional times, they couldn't help but overhear the townspeople's hushed conversations.

_"There they go again…The Young Mistress and that servant's son…" _

_"Oh just let them be. They are still young after all…"_

_"You mean you don't know?"_

_"Don't know what?"_

_"Kinomoto-dono's not so happy about it. Their family has a reputation to maintain—he wouldn't allow such shame!" _

_"Then…you mean, the Lord's planning to—"_

_"Eh…guess you can say that."_

_A click of a tongue. "Oh dear. How pitiful. Pitiful indeed. And to think they could've made a lovely couple someday…" _

Both Syaoran and Sakura could only wonder at what they could've possibly meant.

* * *

**IV.**

Their innocent minds never figured it out.

But maybe that was alright. Maybe it was better off that way. Maybe it was for better off that such moment would last forever, their problems forgotten, as both laid flat on the lush white snow which coated the once green fields that day; that very day—Christmas day, letting the small flakes land on their exposed faces.

Both like the ticklish sensation it brought.

They smiled. They talked. They laughed. He teased her; she wittily retorted back, and seeing him completely at a loss of words, the girl swiftly stood on her feet and ran, the boy chasing her closely in tow. They did nothing but this the whole day; the girl taunting the boy as he ran after her, along with heartily laughs and chuckles. They would wait until one gets tired and finally give up, and as their nimble soles reached the rough texture of the sandy beach, not quite fully covered with the snow. The boy let himself collapse to the ground with a soft thump, and the girl, who had gotten way ahead of him, ran back with a toothy grin.

The boy panted. "Alright, alright," he spoke, surrendering. "You win."

The girl smiled as she settled herself beside him. "Don't I always?"

The boy fell silent as a troubling thought crossed his mind. He straightened his back up, suddenly serious and then hugged his knees. Looking ahead, the sky had already turned a crimson red, and there in the middle of the crystal waters was the magnificent sun as it set in hues of orange and yellow, crowning the fire ball like a halo.

It was a beautiful sight.

Yet the small hint of doubt which had arisen in him had come back, images of the villagers' heads crowded together, and their whispering lips playing itself again and again in his mind.

Sakura noticed.

"Syaoran? Is something wrong?" she asked.

He didn't answer. Instead, he merely looked ahead at the horizon, the calm waves of the sea and the soft, chilly breeze as soothing and relaxing as they have ever been.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said as he breathed contentedly.

The girl nodded. "It sure is." she glanced back at Syaoran. "Hey. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Don't worry. I'm fine…"

.

.

.

_"Everything's fine, Sakura. Everything's perfectly fine." _

Never in his life had he sounded so unsure, and he himself wished that he could believe his own words.

* * *

**V.**

She stood by the kitchen sink that late night—a young woman of quite the exquisite beauty, with eyes of a mesmerizing shade of emerald and long grey hair flowing elegantly in graceful waves behind her, as delicate as a goddess, as wealthy as a queen with all the riches within her grasp.

She was a Kinomoto. A mighty Kinomoto.

Still, she wasn't happy.

She sat alone in the stillness of the cavernous room, looking at nothing but shadows coating the place. Outside, a snowstorm raged, the winds howled, and the cold broke right through the warm ambience of the mighty Kinomoto mansion.

For hours—yes, hours, she did nothing but this, staring at the outside as still as stone.

The front door then opened, and for a brief moment, a chilly breeze blew through her locks, followed by the loud, deafening assaults of the raging winds. The noises ceased as the doors were then closed and a pair of footsteps on the marble floor coming closer.

"Did you…" she started, quite hesitant to finish her question.

"Ah. I did…"

"The letter?"

"Yes."

"But then, Sakura will…"

The figure moved closer, a faint ray of light then illuminating down upon him—a fine young man with quaint glasses concealing his amber eyes, his hair of brown quite tousled.

Her husband.

One who could so easily compare to her beauty with his unwavering, well-toned stature, for he himself seemed to be a descendant of the mighty gods, molded with excellence, created with perfection.

"She'll have to bear it. Remember dear, though how beautiful the sun shines in paradise, it will always set, and so shall give way to the darkness. Sakura needs to learn that. She needs to be aware of the fine line which draws a barrier between the wonderland she grown used to, and the harsh reality which awaits her in the near future."

Nadeshiko had no choice but to agree, silently wishing for the better as she nodded hesitantly and averted her gaze back to the raging storm outside.

* * *

**VI.**

And so, another day began. A beautiful day. The calm after the storm. Everything as peaceful as it has always been as though the terrifying night hadn't occurred at all.

"Okaa!" Syaoran called as he trudged down the familiar muddy path which led to their small humble abode, small arms wrapped tightly around a couple of logs he had picked in the forest. Then seeing his mother's figure standing by their crops, he ran the rest of the way.

"Okaa!" he called again. "Here are the wood logs you asked me to bring."

The woman turned, her long brown hair tied up in a messy bun, and with weary dark eyes, she smiled at her son. "Ah yes, welcome back son. And thank you. Come on, breakfast's ready," she said as she gestured for them to go inside.

Syaoran then noticed an envelope clasped tightly in her hand. "What's that, okaa-san?"

The woman's expression turned frantic. "I-It's nothing," she assured as she quickly crumpled the paper. Still, Syaoran was able to read a neatly written script of, "Kinomoto Fujikata" in the flap.

"Kinomoto Fujikata? Isn't he Sakura's father?"

The woman's fingers tensed. "What did you call her?" she asked in a low, serious tone. "The Young Mistress? What did you call her?"

"You mean, Sakura?"

The woman's eyes widened, as if frightened, and she quickly grabbed hold of the boy's shoulders. "Sakura Kinomoto is a 'sama', Syaoran. She's our Mistress. You need to call her Sakura-sama!"

"But okaa-san, we're friends."

The woman sighed. "I know…I know. But, always remember that we're nothing but mere workers in the Kinomoto mansion. They're powerful Syaoran. Very powerful," her grip on the crumpled envelope tightened. "Syaoran, I want you to lessen playing with Young Mistress Sakura. No, if possible, never play again with her at all!"

"What? But okaa-san!"

"You heard me Syaoran," she said as she threw the paper in their bin. "You're going to study harder, you're going to graduate with flying colors. You're going to get a new job. You need to live a better life in the future than what I can afford for you. You know that your father's no longer here anymore. It's only us two."

She had said it with finality, thus ending their conversation.

"Call the Mistress, Sakura-sama from now on. Understood?"

"H-hai…"

The woman turned away, resentment obvious in her pained expression.

And then…

A cough.

A drop of blood.

Her breathing became a series of pants, and she then instinctively brought a hand to her chest.

"Okaa? Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am. I'm just tired. Don't worry."

.

.

.

"This is nothing. Nothing at all."

"Ohayo!" cried Sakura as she ran across their mansion's cavernous guest hall, and by the other end stood the young woman whose beauty was that of a goddess. Her eyes, however, no longer held its usual vivid emerald luster, caught up in the air of sadness which coated around her.

She smiled nonetheless at the sight of her angel. "Sakura-chan. Did you sleep well?"

Sakura grinned cheerfully. "Yeah! I had a wonderful dream okaa!"

The woman chuckled slightly as she shoved the girl's back and brought her to their dining room. "Ah, and what might that be, my sweet Cherry Blossom?" she asked.

"Snow! I dreamed about the snow! I dreamed about Christmas! And…and…" a smile. "Syaoran too, was there. I was having so much fun in my dream okaa! Can I go out today okaa? Can I play with him today?"

For a fleeting moment, the woman's eyes trembled. Still, she forced a smile. "Gomen, my little blossom, but you can't," she said with a pitiful voice. "You need to lesson your play during weekdays and start to get a little bit more serious on your studies."

Sakura's face fell. "Eh? But—"

"No buts Sakura," the woman interrupted, suddenly stern. "I do not want to hear any more complaints from you."

Her expression then softened upon seeing Sakura's pained look. She bent down and continued. "Look, I'm really sorry dear, but always remember that whatever your father and I decide upon, it's only for the better. Sakura, you're a Kinomoto. You're a mighty Kinomoto, and someday, you will inherit our heritage. All these are preparations for your being an heiress. You understand don't you?"

Sakura nodded sadly.

The woman pushed back the little girl's fringe. "I'm really sorry dear. I'm really, really sorry…"

And as she hugged her daughter's small figure, conversation from the previous night ran in her mind once again.

_"She'll have to bear it. Remember dear, though how beautiful the sun shines in paradise, it will always set, and so shall give way to the darkness. Sakura needs to learn that. She needs to be aware of the fine line which draws a barrier between the wonderland she grown used to, and the harsh reality which awaits her in the near future."_

"But okaa…" Sakura broke her mother's momentary reverie as she pulled away. "I can still play with Syaoran right? If I still have the time? During weekends?"

The woman smiled. "Of course."

* * *

**VII.**

And the two did just that—they only saw each other during weekends. And for the first time ever, a feeling of uneasiness hovered between them, as they sat by the sands of the nearby sea once more, eyes never leaving the orange sunset which reflected upon the sea's crystal waters.

They didn't play that day.

"It's almost night time…" the girl whispered as she then stood up. "So I guess this is goodbye…"

The boy nodded. "Guess it is."

"We didn't play today…"

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"I promise. We'll play, another time maybe…_Sakura—sama…_"

.

.

.

Sakura nodded. "Hai. Another time then."

* * *

**VIII.**

But that time never came.

The years went by—spring season passed, and then summer came, months of extreme heat until the autumn breeze slowly crept in, giving way for the cold winter season, yet the sakura tree still stood strong in the middle of their paradise, magnificent, blossoming as beautifully as ever in the brightest shade of pink, lost among a midst of dull and brown withering evergreens. The rose bushed bloomed and withered repeatedly, and then bloomed again, marking the start of yet another spring season, until the greens turn into the golden brown shade of fall.

And then, the snow.

A light sway of the head, and she shook awake. The teacher's voice delicately droned on, stuffing her numerically-overworked brain with more Math problems thirteen-year-old Sakura could possibly handle. It was surprising she hadn't been caught sleeping yet, though sitting at the far corner of the room by the window, she had a pretty good guess. Or maybe it was just that her Math teacher had long given up on her—she really couldn't be sure.

Her head drooped; her eyelids felt like they weigh a ton, and it was only then when she heard those heavenly words "Goodbye class," that her gaze shot up. She jerked up from her seat, greeting their teacher goodbye along with the rest of the class, breaths coming out in wisps of white.

It sure was starting to get cold.

A hand dove into her hair and ruffled it. She turned her head his way, and they exchanged smiles.

"Need some help?"

"Uh, yeah…"

She sat as still as ever, wide-eyed as he explained the lecture to her. Friendly as it may seem, Sakura could still note a slight change in the way he talked to her. His tone was calculated, serious, and their exchange of words went on like a casual conversation between two classmates, far off from the childish rants they used to have as best friends.

And then it hit her; the reason as to why she had been very glum the past few weeks.

She fell silent, and so did Syaoran. Outside, flakes of snow fell, and upon the sudden stillness, Sakura had just resorted to staring out the window.

_"Let's play outside Syaoran!"_ she wanted to blurt out. Instead, a soft "Syaoran…" was all she had managed to say.

"Mm?"

"Okaa and otou said I'll be taking home tutor starting tomorrow."

"Oh. I see."

She had expected a silent fury, or maybe perhaps a worried resentment. However, she got none—Syaoran's face completely apathetic. Sakura felt a slight twinge in her stomach—probably disappointment at the boy's blunt response as though he hadn't cared at all.

Maybe he longer does…

Sakura couldn't help but feel troubled.

"Okaa and otou are organizing a party for Christmas tonight. You'll come, right? Syaoran?"

"I'll try."

"Please?"

Syaoran chuckled as he once again ruffled her hair. "I'll try, sama. I'll try."

He then bid farewell and left the room, leaving Sakura all alone in deep contemplation.

* * *

**IX.**

He didn't come.

The two rarely saw each other ever since that day, and in the years have certain changes started to occur. They were no longer naïve, little seven-year-old kids. They were now mature, more worldly-wise sixteen-year-olds, and the small paradise realm which only the two of them shared now grew worlds bigger. It was no longer their dreamland. It was now the reality. Cruel. Harsh, even. And both longed for the times when life was as simple as running around the fields all day, never having to bear the weight of problems brought by it.

Syaoran's mother had been diagnosed with a serious lung disease, and this had been his motivation to study harder. It was no surprise that he had been consistent in their school's rank one spot. He went out with his old friends, and effortlessly made new ones, yet despite the happy crowd he was in, he still longed to be with someone…

And that certain someone…

…felt the same longing as her.

Sakura's parents have gotten as strict as ever, with her trying to understand their repetitive excuse that "It was all for the better."

For years, she had been locked inside the walls of their mansion, unable to go outside, unable to run freely through the lush green fields, unable to play with a friend she had so missed. She longed to see him again, to run hand in hand once more, like how they would usually do when they were younger.

There are things you don't want to think of, but you can't even forget, and there are things that you don't want to continue, but are afraid to end. It's just like you don't want to expect, but you're still willing to wait. And that was exactly what Sakura and Syaoran did, as both would occasionally pass by the sakura tree, in, unfortunately, different times, eyes flickering with hope only to get disappointed shortly after.

They spent sleepless nights, where both laid awake with their eyes wide open, blankly staring at nothing in particular. They bore the cold and harsh hours, wishing that the other would be there to take them out of their loneliness and wipe their misery. Their minds went about flying like broken pieces of shrapnel, wishing at every shooting star, yet to no avail, and the immense pain was immeasurable, like ice daggers pierced to their hearts and sharp knives buried to their very souls. Painful as it may seem, it was meant to be, for all good things come to an end…

And their wonderful, carefree friendship was too good to last.

Then it happened.

They caught glimpse of the other while they strolled around town. And so they exchanged smiles, like any other acquaintances would.

_"Long time no see,"_ she said.

_"Yeah. Want to grab a snack?"_ he ever-so-warmly offered.

And as they walked side by side, everything went forgotten, and the next thing they knew, they were running back at that one place they had known all their life.

=.o.=

_"Where have you been?"_

_"What…do you mean, otou-san?"_

_"Stop playing innocent, you ungrateful pest. They saw the two of you. The people saw you with that greasy boy again."_

_"O-oh…"_

_"DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO NEVER TALK TO HIM AGAIN?" _

_Sakura trembled, fear rushing right through her. _

_"Fujikata! Stop it! Don't be too harsh on Sakura!" Nadeshiko quickly cut him off. "Please. Yelling will do no good…" _

_The room fell silent. _

_Fujikata threw one last glare at the two of them, before storming off. _

_Sakura could feel a sting in her eyes, and the next thing she knew, tears rolled down her cheeks. "Okaa…" she whispered. _

_The woman hugged her soothingly. "Hush hush. Everything's going to be alright dear. I'll talk to him. Don't worry…"_

_But the tears won't stop. _

_Sakura couldn't bring herself to forget the look her father gave her._

* * *

**X.**

It was a peaceful wintery night, and the glow of the moon which drifted in and out of the clouds, casted its' light upon two figures sitting by the sakura tree. It was an exceptionally beautiful scenery, and had they been still of the naïve age of seven, they would've instantly played tag under the winter night sky, their nimble soles crushing against the white snow.

But things change; people change, and the two leaned by the tree's trunk in silence, uncertain of what to say to the other.

"Is something bothering you, Sakura-sama?"

A chilly breeze blew upon them.

"Otou's different. He's no longer the loving father I used to know," Sakura replied bluntly. "And don't call me Sakura-sama. It's annoying really."

"But…"

"It's an order. Not a request. No…make it a wish. And since it's a wish, shouldn't you fulfill it for me?" her eyes clouded. "Remember? You keep telling me that when we were young. That you'd grant my every wish, because—"

"—because I live to serve the Kinomoto family," Syaoran interrupted.

"That's not it at all!"

"It is now. Sakura, wake up. Don't you get it yet? Why your okaa and otou don't want to hang out with me?"

Sakura fell silent., before a tiny "Oh…" then escaped her barely parted lips. She then brought her knees closer to her chest, hugging them. "Eh…I really don't know much about what's going on…but I'm sure of one thing—that I missed you so much Syaoran. I missed the times when we were still playing out in the fields," she said in a hoarse whisper, her voice shaky as if crying. And she was actually. She just didn't want Syaoran to know.

But her long time friend knows her too well. "You're crying…"

"No I'm not…" she sniffed.

"I'm not stupid Sakura. I've been your friend for eleven years."

_Sakura._

He had called her Sakura, and the girl couldn't help but melt at the thought. But now was not the time for that, and it took her a few moments before she responded, clearly at a loss of words.

"I…I…"

"Tell me…what's wrong Sakura…"

"I don't know. I'm just…scared…"

"Scared of what?"

"About us Syaoran…" she wiped her tears, refusing to meet his concerned gaze. "About what's going to happen to us…"

_Silence. _

"I'm feeling cold Syaoran…Promise me that you'll never leave…"

The boy's eyes widened at her unlikely request. "W-what?"

"Promise me that you'll never leave me…I…I'm really scared Syaoran…" she wiped her tears. "Please…don't leave me…"

Syaoran breathed in the cool air. "I promise Sakura."

.

.

.

_"I'll never leave you…" _

With this said, Sakura leaned on him and sobbed silently, yet bitterly on his chest.

But the worst was yet to come…

…and his promise, to be broken.

"Go home. Your parents are probably looking for you already…"

"Will I see you again tomorrow?"

"…We'll see…"

* * *

**XI.**

If only they could forget.

But trying to forget someone dear to you, is like trying to remember someone you haven't met, and in a word, it was simply impossible. Because really, there is no such thing as forgetting.

Only acceptance.

Something both found, rather hard to do.

And so they rebelled.

They were sick and tired of just gazing at the other from long distances during the day, unable to touch, unable to talk, unable to play like how they did back then when they were very young. They wanted to be free—to be together once more without any limiting barriers.

_"Let's meet at the sakura tree Syaoran…"_

And they did meet, at that once place which they could call truly theirs, and ever since that one time, they had repeatedly done so the following nights. They would hide, they would meet in secret, they would run and enjoy each other's company like they did before.

And they were happy. Satisfied. Contented.

"Syaoran…"

"Yeah?"

"Hold my hand."

"…Why?"

"I don't know. We used to do this when we were young right? Just do it."

A smile. "Alright."

And as their fingers delicately intertwined, it was only then when they realized that their special friendship had blossomed into another. Something new…something special…something only the two of them understand as they exchanged silent glances. They were two souls engulfed into a single heartbeat, and the heavens could only rejoice at their newfound love as it showered upon them flakes of crystal snow.

It was a wonderful feeling—being with the one you love.

But sadly, it wasn't meant to be.

For their love was a love shunned by this world—a mistake; a crime. They were lovers, star-crossed, that even fate itself was determined to tear them apart.

And so it happened.

The worst had come.

_"This is getting out of hand Nadeshiko…we need to do something…" _

_"Like what?"_

_"Leave that to me."_

* * *

**XII.**

It was snowing harshly that day, yet to Syaoran, all had gone mute except Sakura's words which rang endlessly in his mind.

.

.

.

_"I'm leaving for Paris Syaoran." _

A defeaning silence followed.

* * *

**XIII.**

But they were given a chance.

_"If he shows up right before our flight leaves, you're free to go. But if he doesn't, we'll leave for Paris, and you will come willingly with us—no objections, no complaints, no protests," the man stated. _

_And the girl nodded. "He'll come. I'm sure of it." _

Yet that small hint of doubt remained lingering in her uncertain mind.

"Syaoran, you'll come right?" she had asked.

"Of course I will," he assured. "Don't worry. I will never let you leave."

_…Will I?..._

=.o.=

Syaoran was working on the fields, when from a distance, he saw a man enter their house. Quickly putting down his farming tools, he dashed their way, and there he saw, a tall man of high-authority with amber eyes behind glasses, warm yet with a hard expression on them and his hair of brown quite tousled by the weather.

He could see his mother trembling. "K-Kinomoto-d-dono…" she whispered, inferior-stricken, as she bowed with utmost respect.

Fujikata didn't respond. He merely stood before them in silence.

But the frown on his face seemed to have explained everything, and Syaoran braced himself for the worst.

_"I heard your mother's sick. There is still hope for her you know—if you cooperate that is."_

_"What do you want?"_

_"Oh just a simple favor..."_

Lightning then flashed a distance, and that night, it rained in torrents in their paradise for the very first time. As the thunder roared, Sakura, her sleep disrupted, shot up from her bed, panting, as if she had ran for miles.

"S-syaoran…" she worriedly whispered, then glancing by the calendar which hung by her bedroom door.

_"Tomorrow. We'll be leaving tomorrow…"_

* * *

**XII.**

He promised he'd never leave her.

He vowed to come.

And so she waited on that very day—their departure day, as she stood still outside by the airport's double glass doors, hoping for a glimpse of amber amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces. Seconds, minutes, hours passed; the snow piled up around her sneakers, some settling down upon her auburn locks.

_…He'll come…_

_S_he kept telling herself.

_…He'll come Sakura. Just a little bit longer, he'll surely come…_

Because he promised he will.

"Syaoran…"

Syaoran looked at the calendar with a pained expression. Sakura was leaving today, and he hated the helpless feeling which held him down, unable to stop her from going.

It was another of the Lord's underhanded tricks. He had learned about his mother's sickness, and then decided to take advantage of it.

That dreadful night, he had spoke.

_"If you let Sakura go, I'll take care of the expenses for your mother's treatments. However, if you were to show up, not one help will be given, and you shall bear the pain of watching your mother suffer as her sickness worsens. Remember, the choice, is yours to make. So? What will it be? Eh? Syaoran Li?"_

And he was left with no choice.

_"I'm sorry Sakura…"_

If only she knew…

If only.

He never wanted to say goodbye.

Yet, he did.

Sakura could feel her eyes water, as the cold slowly got to her. A hand was placed upon her shoulder, yet she still looked ahead, hopeful for a sign of the playmate.

"Sakura, we need to go now," Fujikata whispered, as soon as their flight had arrived.

The tears fell.

He didn't come.

He never will.

_"Idiot…"_

.

.

.

_"I hate you Syaoran…I hate you so much…"_

She had decided to live by that lie, then pivoting her head a quarter before boarding the plane, taking one last glance at the quaint little town of Tomoeda she had so loved and endeared.

She hated him—for hurting her; for betraying her.

And she hated herself—for still loving him despite all; for knowing that one day, she'd come back running to him, and him alone.

She never wanted to say goodbye.

Yet, she did.

=.o.=

_And just like that, their once tight bond fell into oblivion; once the closest of friends, now the farthest of strangers._

_Still, life moves on._

_And many, many more years came to pass. _

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED.**


End file.
